[rating=8.00]
Omar Rodriguez-Lopez has always been one to defy convention and expectation. From redefining what punk rock could and should be with At the Drive-in to exploring the limits of composition with Mars Volta, the enigmatic genius has been at the forefront of the musical evolution of the century so far. His is an artistic voice that refuses to be pigeonholed into any one category or style.
Which is part of the reason why Rodriguez-Lopez’s latest project, which finds him releasing a new album every two weeks from now until the end of the year, for a total of 12 records, feels so unsurprising. Any other artist and it might seem like overkill. For him, it’s par for the course.
It helps that none of the material is newly recorded; the whole project represents the culmination of years of recording, a sort of treasure trove of unreleased material meant to be dived into and absorbed. This fact is apparent from the opening moments of the first release of his 12 album deluge, Sworn Virgins.
Filled with a purposefully raw hypnotic dissonance, Sworn Virgins is an effort that challenges you, begging you to find the Zen in the digital discordance. It feels exactly like what it is: an experiment by Rodriguez-Lopez that’s been cobbled together and polished into coherence. Of course, when you’re ORL, even your experiments are exercises in transcendence, and there’s beauty to be found amidst the chaos.
Chaos is sort of the trademark of Rodriguez-Lopez’s work, and it’s a form in which he’s comfortable existing. Sworn Virgins finds him stretching his legs as far as he ever has, magically building a cohesive soundscape from the void of sonic anarchy. It’s a record built on seemingly disparate layers of sound that meld together in bizarre ways to form a uniquely ORL experience.
Here, Rodriguez-Lopez pulls from a wide variety of influences, from latter day post-punk-whatever-core (“Logged into Bliss”) to 80’s new wave (“Kill a Chi Chi”). The range of influences never affects the work as a whole; on the contrary, it serves only to add to the sense of organized chaos that runs through the record.
As ever, it’s difficult to properly dissect the album as a collection of individual songs; individual tracks feel almost meaningless as they all work in conjunction as pieces to a large whole, with each subsequent track feeling like an extension of the last. Musical themes are repeated an alluded to throughout, as Sworn Virgins builds a whole which defies logical breakdown.
It almost forces one to wonder if the entire 12-album project will work in a similar matter. How individual will these records be, when all is said and done? Is this merely the opening stanza of a larger cycle? Will the project congeal into a singular work by its end? What themes, lyrically or musically, might be revisited by the end of this ambitious project?
For now, that’s irrelevant. Even if there is a connective tissue that runs between albums, Sworn Virgins works entirely on its own, and on its own merits. The album recalls the best moments from his career, from At The Drive-in, to Mars Volta, to Bosnian Rainbows, distilling the disparate sounds into something that feels at once intimately familiar and excitingly new.
Built on digital loops and propelled by a restrained guitar, Sworn Virgins is almost meditative, lulling you in sweetly before careening you on a journey through the chaos of his creative id. Like the artist that created it, the album is at all points and in all ways convention defying. As soon as you’re accustomed to the repetitious nature of the digitized soundscape, Omar switches things up, jarring you from complacency with a stark reminder that the unexpected is all that’s to be expected. We’re in his house now, for a party that’s set to last from now until the end of the year. Strap in tight, because if Sworn Virgins is any indication, it’s going to be a wild ride from here on.
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